


Strikeout

by Zoeleo



Series: Rara Avis [16]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Baseball, Bruce Wayne is a Bad Parent, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Family Feels, Gen, Jason Todd Has Issues, Or Bruce adopts Jason but doesn't make him Robin, Teen Angst, he tries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-02-04 11:03:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18603229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoeleo/pseuds/Zoeleo
Summary: Bruce has been working extra hard lately on a case, pulling long days at WE and long nights under the cape. In his determination to wrap up a project gone wrong with LexCorp, he accidently lets his familial duties fall to the wayside. In the end he finds that he'd far rather be tossed through another wall than disappoint Jason again.





	Strikeout

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to [AmariT](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmariT/pseuds/AmariT)  
> for beta-ing!
> 
> Heads up there's a small time skip here. Jason is in high school.

Jason bites his lip, inhales, and lets it out slowly. He can do this. It’s not a big deal. Bruce has always made a point to try and come to things that Jason is involved in: school plays, awards nights, jiu jitsu tournaments. And when he can’t make it, he lets Jason know beforehand. At least up until recently. He’s just missed Jason’s last couple games because he’s been busy and probably forgot to check the schedule on the fridge. If Jason had _asked_ , he would have come. He’s sure. He just needs to ask.

He takes another breath and knocks on the door to the study. He hates interrupting Bruce while he’s in there. In all the time he’s lived at the manor, it’s the only place he’s ever been told is off-limits. Always knock, never come in uninvited. When he first moved in with Bruce he had been convinced it was the entrance to some sort of sex/torture dungeon that he’d be dragged down to if he misbehaved.

That fear had quickly faded with every night Bruce didn’t try to grope him under the dinner table or creep into his room while he slept. It dried up altogether the first time he’d come inside along with Alfred to bring his dad a late-night snack while he stayed up laboring over some new Wayne Enterprises merger. He had almost been disappointed by the anticlimactic reveal that it was just a standard (if rather opulent) office with desk, filing cabinets, a couple chairs, and an ornate old grandfather clock by the fireplace.

The fear was gone, but the room still elicited an undercurrent of anxiety in him. Maybe he’d never quite gotten over the sharp edge in Alfred’s voice when he’d reached out to press his fingertips against the glass pane of the grandfather clock, mesmerized by the movement of the pendulum, and was immediately admonished for it, impressing on him how _very_ fragile and _very_ expensive the antique was. Or maybe it was because it was the room Dick and Bruce always fought in, their raised voices leaking out from behind its closed door and echoing down the hallway.

Either way, he avoided the study as much as possible. He had been hoping to catch his father elsewhere, but Bruce had been practically non-existent the last three days, leaving a father-shaped void in the manor.

Jason frowns and knocks again, harder this time. He hears a slight shuffle and a muffled, “Come in.”

Jason cracks the door and peers around its edge before stepping into the room. Bruce looks tired. There are dark circles under his eyes that look like bruises and the line he gets between his brows when he’s been thinking too hard is carved into a deep groove. He offers Jason a fatigued smile.

“Hey Jay-lad, how are you doing?”

“Fine, thanks,” he mumbles, looking down at his shoes.

He’s never been good at asking for things. It feels ungrateful, especially when all Bruce or Alfred have ever done for him is give, give, and give some more.

“Do you want to sit down? Can I help you with something?”

Jason automatically moves toward the chair opposite the desk from Bruce, then stops and shakes his head.

“Nah. I know you’re busy. This won’t take long.”

“I’m never too busy if there’s something you want to talk about. You know that, right?” Bruce asks, concern in his voice.

“Oh. Oh yeah. I know. It’s not like that. Really, everything’s fine. I just, uh, I wanted to let you know in case you didn’t see, but I’ve got a baseball game next Friday—”

Bruce crumples. His shoulders sag and he drops his pen onto a stack of papers.

“Jay-lad, I am so sorry. I’ve been so caught up in this mess,” he waves his hand bitterly over the reports littering his desk, “that I completely forgot about your last game.”

Two games, Jason thinks, but he chooses not to point that out.

“What… What is that?” he asks instead, nodding at the papers.

Bruce sighs and rubs a hand over his eyes. The gesture looks odd by him. His dad is usually one to mask his emotions.  Whatever he’s working on must be bad to if he’s showing his exhaustion this openly.

“It’s the contract for a partnership between Wayne Enterprises and LexCorp for the development of cybernetic drones. I think LexCorp is trying to arm the drones with military grade tech, which would be in violation of the contract.” He draws a breath and leans back in his chair, “However, I have to have firm evidence before I can terminate the partnership, otherwise WE will be in violation of contract terms too. So until evidence can be secured of wrongdoing on LexCorp’s part, I’m seeing if there are any loopholes in the contract to exploit that would allow us to pull out earlier.”

“Don’t you have lawyers that can do that?” Jason asks.

He can’t quite keep the annoyance out of his voice. WE has a whole legal team dedicated to crap like this. What does Bruce think he’s going to find that they won’t? He knows better than anyone that despite the _Brucie_ facade for the public his dad is actually wicked smart, but there are other people out there who are smart too. And WE hires most of them. Why can’t he leave this one for them to solve instead of running himself into the ground?

Bruce raises an eyebrow.

“I do, but it’s my company and therefore on things like this I like to make sure that I’m involved in on some level.”

“Oh. Will WE be okay?”

His dad cracks a smile.

“WE will be fine. It’s weathered worse than Lex Luthor before. I would just prefer everything be resolved as quickly as possible. I really don’t want the WE name tied to unauthorized weapons development if I can help it…” He taps the stack of papers against the desktop to square their edges then sets them aside. “So, tell me about this game?”

Jason blinks and rocks back on his heels.

“Yeah, so uh, it’s next Friday at 8:30. It’s a little later than usual because the intermediate team has a game that night also, so we have to wait til they finish. But if you could make it, that’d be really cool. It’s kind of a big game. It’s against Brentwood. And Coach said there were going to be scouts for the university teams and stuff.”

He finishes with a shrug and gazes down at his shoes again. He wiggles his toes and watches the canvas tops move over them.

“Wow. Scouts. That is big,” Bruce comments, his voice lilting up with more life than it’s had all night.

“Yeah. I mean, I’m kind of nervous. But it’s still exciting.”

“Next Friday. 8:30. I’ll be there. I’ll add it to my calendar so I won’t miss it this time,” he says with the same unshakeable confidence Jason’s heard him use in board meetings, then it softens,  “And Jason, there’s no need to worry. Whatever happens, know that I’m proud of you. But you’ll be amazing. I know it. Can’t wait to see you play.”

Jason looks up in time to catch his dad’s grin. It makes his stomach flip and his chest flop in all the best ways. He returns it with one of his own.

 

***

 

Jason throws himself out of the car before it comes to a complete stop, causing Alfred and Riley both to shout after him. He can’t make out their words over the blood rushing through his ears though and he leaves them behind, racing up the garage steps through the kitchen and down the hall. The door to Bruce’s study is closed, but there is light limning its edges. He doesn’t bother knocking. Or even using the handle. He kicks it open hard enough that pain shoots up his leg.

Bruce’s head snaps up, eyebrows pinched and eyes narrowed. There’s what looks like an actual bruise under his eye this time, but Jason is too angry to care to ask.

“ _Jason Peter Wayne—”_ he starts to boom before Jason cuts him off.

“I hit two home runs. Gotham U and Metropolis both offered full rides. And Vanderbilt wants to talk later to discuss scholarships. Just thought you should know,” he snarls and turns to head back out the door. At the threshold he pauses to look over his shoulder. “Oh and we won. In case you were wondering.”

He leaves after that. He can’t stay any longer or the growing knot in his throat will choke him and the wet heat pricking at his eyes will spill over. Never let them see you cry. He used to live by that rule when he was on the streets. Why is it so much harder here? He had _real_ reasons to cry back then – not some pathetic sissy reason like his dad not watching him play sports. He bites down on his fist and bolts up the stairs, ignoring the call of his name from behind. He rockets into his room and slams the door behind him and pauses just long enough to lock it before launching onto his bed in an uncoordinated flop.

He needs a shower. He’s gross and sweaty and covered in red clay from his slide into home base in the seventh inning. He didn’t take off his cleats either before confronting Bruce so he probably tracked it all through the manor on top of ruining his linens. Now Alfred is going to be mad at him. He doesn’t want Alfred to be mad at him. Not Alfie who has faithfully made it to every game, even _without_ him asking. He’s such a screw-up. He toes off his shoes and rolls onto his stomach, shoves his face into his pillow and tries to smother the sobs that are forcing their way out.

It’s so stupid. He’s so stupid. He bet Dick never cried over something this dumb. Dick would have gotten mad and probably given Bruce the finger and then run off on his big dumb _awesome_ motorcycle to bang one of his ultra-hot girlfriends. He wouldn’t have locked himself in his room and cried like a baby. He’s never going to be as good as Dick; not as popular or good-looking or cool. No, he’s always going to be the fuck-up. If being the star player on his team isn’t enough to get his dad come out to watch him play, what the hell else is he supposed to do?

He spirals into cycle of anger at Bruce, at himself, at the universe at large. He doesn’t know how much time passes before finally registering the knocking at his door over his own swallowed groans.

“ _Jason… Jason. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. Please unlock the door. Please let me in. I just want to talk. I want to apologize… Jason?”_

He squeezes his eyes shut and pulls the pillow over his head. The down dulls the words but doesn’t drown them out completely.

“ _Jason, please. I… I screwed up. I know that. Please just let me in so we can talk about this.”_

He tilts his head to the side so he can yell, “I don’t want to fucking talk to you! Now leave me alone!”

“ _Jason.”_

Jason pulls the pillow back under his head so he can bury his face in it, doesn’t even flinch at the wet sticky spot on the pillowcase under his cheek.

“I said to go away! If you cared you would’ve been there. But you weren’t. I hate you! I wish you’d never adopted me!” he screams, loud enough for Bruce to hear it through pillow and door.

There’s a long pause after that and Jason’s heart jackrabbits in his chest. Maybe he’s gone too far. He sniffs and raises his head. It’s suspiciously quiet now. Did… Did Bruce actually leave? _No! I didn’t mean it! I don’t hate you! Please don’t go._ He wants to say those things. He wants Bruce to know he’s lying. Wants Bruce to come in and hold him anyway and make it all better. But he can’t say any of it. His breathing accelerates as his mind races frantically, stuttering and stalling.

He’s wheezing so badly that when the firm pressure of a hand lands on his shoulder, he squeaks like a broken toy.

“Shhh, sh. It’s okay. It’s just me. I’m sorry. I know you hate me. I know you said to leave you alone. But I couldn’t. Even if you hate me, you’re still my son, and you didn’t sound like you were okay. I’ll go as soon as you want, just let me make sure that you’re okay first.” The hand on his shoulder turns into two, and then he’s being pulled gently against a familiar broad chest. “Breathe slowly. Through your belly. Slowly. Okay, now can you hold it for ten seconds? Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. And in again. Alright. Ten, nine, eight…”

At last his airways start to lose their death grip and he’s able to take a full gasping breath. He leans into his father, desperate to be close but not ready to look him in the eyes. Not after what he said.

“I’m so—sorry,” he blurts.

“For what? I’m the one who messed up here.”

“I didn’t mean it. I don’t hate you. I don’t wish you’d never adopted me. I just… You _promised_  you would be there and I kept looking for you. And Alfie was there, and Riley, and Tim, and Rena. And I thought maybe you were just at the consignment stand getting nachos for everyone. Or maybe you were in the bathroom. Or running late. But every time I tried to find you, _you weren’t there_.”

His voice creaks in a way it hasn't in years and his fingers clench in Bruce’s back, keeping him from pulling away. He hears and feels Bruce take a deep breath under his hands. They sit in silence for while, interrupted only by an occasional hiccup. Bruce pulls off Jason’s baseball cap and runs his fingers through his hair. He plants a kiss on his forehead.

“Jay. I know I keep saying it. But I’m really sorry. I’m not… I’m not good at prioritizing. You and Dick should always be my top priority, but… But I fail in that more than I would like to admit. I _should_ have been there. I shouldn’t have put WE business before my family. But I did. And…” Bruce drifts off.

He looks even more tired than the night Jason had cornered him in his study. Tired and miserable. A small selfish part of him is pleased that he’s been the one to cause Bruce’s stoic mask to fall away this time. He must really care about Jason if he’s upset enough it shows.

“And?” Jason prompts nasally.

Now that he’s stopped crying, his head aches and his sinuses are all full of snot.

“I hurt you and I don’t know how to fix that. I just know that I want to. You’re not going to be here that much longer. You’ll be going to college soon, and I don’t want things to be broken between us when you leave. I want the rest of the time you’re here to be good.”

Jason thinks about Bruce and Dick. They’re better now, way better than when he first moved in, but he doesn’t want things between him and Bruce to be like them. He nods.

“I want that too.”

“Good,” Bruce hands him his cap. “Good,” he says again, so softly Jason isn’t sure he was meant to hear it.

Jason pushes up into a seated position and drags his wrist under his nose, grimacing at the trail it leaves through the dirt on his arm. A cool breeze tickles his face. He turns in confusion to the window.

“How… How did you get in Old Man?” he asks.

Bruce scoffs.

“I’m not so old I can’t climb through a window.”

“Yeah, but… It was locked wasn’t it?”

“Was it? I don’t think so. Maybe you’re the one who’s getting old. Losing your memory.”

Jason frowns and slugs his dad in the arm. That reminds him. He drops his fist and raises a finger to Bruce’s eye.

“What happened there?”

“Oh. Uh.” Bruce’s mouth curls up in a smirk. “Would you believe me if I told you I punched Lex Luthor?”

“And he did that?” Jason gapes.

Bruce laughs self-consciously, “No. His bodyguard did. Mercy. Damn near put me through a wall.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

Bruce nods in agreement.

“Wish I could have been there. See your ass get handed to you.”

“Hey!”

“Just because I don’t hate you, doesn’t mean I’m not still mad at you. Probably deserved to get laid out,” Jason sniffs.

Bruce rolls his eyes and tugs Jason back to him with an arm around his shoulders.

“Alright, that’s enough beating on the ‘ _Old Man.’_ So, two home runs huh? Tell me about the game. I want to know every detail…”


End file.
